Baby Abigail has decided that she will only poop for daddy.
At first it was like, ha ha, it’s kind of funny that she only soils herself when mom is out writing, or in the bath, or otherwise occupied. Surely it was just a coincidence that Abigail waited until I got home from work to start scrunching her face up, cheeks turning red as she tries to get her little baby bowels to work. She only defecates once every other day or so, and usually in the evenings, which just so happened to be when I was home. Now that I am home during the day and work the evenings, it will be mother’s time to change dirty diapers, surely.
I no longer believe it is a coincidence. But rather, a poop conspiracy.
Yesterday, just as Ashes was leaving for work, at 7:45 in the morning, Abigail looked me dead in the eye and started grunting an all too familiar grunt. I watched in disbelief as her little baby body shook just as I heard Ashes starting her car. One long shudder later, she did her adorably dumb baby grin that says, “Dad, it’s time to clean up my shit.”
Ashes is big on data collection. We have records of feeding, sleeping, and diaper changes going back weeks. Baby Abigail has never pooped that early in the day. This was a clear signal that crap cleaning time was still going to be daddy time.
I blame myself. This started because when I would hold her while sitting on the couch, I bring my legs up and let her lean back against them. This mostly vertical position is apparently an easier position for fecal formalities, and one that Ashes, with her shorter legs, is unable to hold. I believe the baby got used to pooping with me, and now my long legs have doomed me to several years of cleaning up shit.
I will spare you the details of the contents of these diapers. Just know that, when a baby only poops every two days, it creates as big a mess as you think it does. A goopy, stinky, mess. One that is my burden to clean.